All That Stands Forgiven
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Castiel begged for an answer...and got one. Instead of opening Purgatory, he returns to the Winchesters to apologize and seek forgiveness. But what happens after that, and when Crowley and Raphael unleash the Leviathan? AU from 'Man Who Would be King'.
1. Chapter 1: Calling on Heaven

**All That Stands Forgiven**

 **Summary:** Supernatural Fan-fic. What if Castiel had received his sign when he asked for it, and aborted his plans, choosing instead to ask the Winchesters for forgiveness? What would he have done, if Crowley and Raphael had unleashed the Leviathans instead? And what of the war in Heaven? AU from the episode 'The Man Who Would Be King'.

 **Chapter One: Calling on Heaven**

Castiel lowered his head to his hands with a sigh. His heart felt heavy, his throat constricted.

He'd been here for hours. Confessing. Such a human thing to do, but there was no other way for him to talk to God. No one could talk to God anymore, or he wouldn't be in this situation.

Only a day or two ago, he'd stood in a ring of Holy Fire, listening in anguish as the three people he most valued in all of creation called him to account for his actions. For his sins. Or at least what they considered his sins.

Sam and Dean. Men he loved like brothers and, as Crowley and Raphael had pointed out, more than he loved many of his angelic brothers. The men for whom he had rebelled against Heaven. The men for whom he had gone to war against an archangel he could not defeat, who had once killed him.

He had lied to them, deceived them. In their eyes, he had betrayed them. He had gone behind their backs, working with Crowley. One little slip of the tongue and he had betrayed himself to them.

His hands clenched together, remembering Bobby's shock, Dean's wrath. The betrayed pain on Sam's face when he had let slip that he, not Crowley, had raised Sam from Hell, minus his soul. It still hurt, Sam's question of whether or not he had done it on purpose. That they could even suspect that of him told him a great deal about how far he had fallen in their eyes.

He had come here, to the silence of a garden park, to pray, to confess the tangled web of his thoughts, to beg for guidance. It was his best hope, the belief that God could be found in a garden. And now that he had poured out the whole sorry tale, he bent his head once more. "Father...Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me a sign. Give me a sign, or I will just...I will do...whatever I must."

He felt himself choke on those words. His heart ached at the idea of abandoning Dean and Sam, of being at odds with them. But if he did not oppose Raphael, then everything they had sacrificed would mean nothing. And he knew no other way to oppose Raphael than Crowley's plan.

Warm air blew across his face, warm gentle air. But the park he sat in was a winter park, snow and ice around his shoes. He stiffened, eyes closing, seeking answers.

A memory came to him. The day of Lucifer's rising. Dean had confronted him in the holding room, asking him to help him stop what was happening. They had fought. Dean had cursed him and sent him away. But the words the young hunter spoke had burned into his brain.

 _'No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right thing to do and a wrong thing to do here, and you know it.' 'If anything's worth dying for, this is it.'_

Dean had been right. Castiel swallowed hard, the memory so sharp it was as if it were happening again. And after a moment, he understood why.

The despair, the anguish that choked his throat, threatening to choke his prayers as well...this was what he had felt, when Dean had confronted him. Caught between what he thought was best for Heaven, and Dean's sharp reminders of basic ethics and honor.

He was facing that choice again. The best thing for Heaven and Earth was to stop Raphael, as far as he knew. But the bargain with Crowley had been a devil's deal that had never truly felt right. The torturing and butchering of monsters, the fighting...every lie he had told to the Winchesters was acid and brimstone in his mouth, in his soul. Like the orders he had almost blindly followed into the Apocalypse.

He could not stop Raphael on his own, and he doubted the Winchesters could make much difference. But when it came right down to it, he hadn't believed they could stop the Apocalypse either. There might be a way he hadn't stopped to consider. Human innovation had often surprised him. Case in point, that they had almost caught up with him and Crowley, despite all the dead ends and stone walls he had placed in their path.

What was right? He didn't know.

What did he know? He knew that Sam and Dean Winchester were men he would live and die for. He knew Raphael's plans would destroy them, and the rest of the world. He knew Crowley's plan offered a solution, but not necessarily a good one. Dean had once commented that nothing good ever came from a demon deal. And this deal would give Crowley the power of several million souls, not just one. Granted, it would give him the same power, but...still…

He had hated lying to his friends, to his almost adopted family. He hated being at odds with them. It all felt so wrong.

He clenched both hands and jaw. "What do I do?"

It occurred to him, in an odd flash of insight, that if Sam and Dean knew the whole story, they would fight to the death to protect him. And if Raphael killed them, there could be no Apocalypse. No vessels meant no grand battle. A morbid thought, but not an impossible one. Not with those two.

It also occurred to him that every plan he had tried for gathering more fire-power had been a disaster. Like the unsinking of the Titanic. And the weapons from Balthazar.

And what was he fighting for, if not to preserve Sam and Dean? In the end, all he wanted was to be at peace with the two humans he had adopted as his brothers-in-arms. The fact that they currently distrusted him, that he and Dean had fought the night before...it hurt. That was why he had come here in the first place.

Another thought spiraled through his mind. Human doubts, human emotions...that had been what had led him the first time. And he did not regret that decision, not even with all that had happened. So…

He rose from the bench, staring at the snow. He wondered what Crowley would say, when he called off their deal.

He wondered if he could even still convince Sam and Dean to listen to his apology and explanation, or if he had destroyed too much of their trust already. He hoped not.

The warm wind eddied around him again, and he looked into the cloudless sky, and at the unmoving leaves on the trees. He felt...peaceful, for the first time in weeks, despite his vague sense that they were all doomed. But if he was to be doomed, better at the side of those he cherished than alone.

He closed his eyes, exhaled a deep breath on the wind. "Thank you Father." Then he oriented himself on Bobby, since he couldn't actively seek the Winchester brothers, and transported himself away.

 _ **Author's Note:** What can I say? I wanted Cas to make the right choice at the end of Season 6. This is definitely going to be AU, so hang on tight._


	2. Chapter 2: Ask Forgiveness

**Chapter Two: Ask Forgiveness**

He had hoped the three men were still at Bobby's. He'd also hoped they hadn't gotten around to re-warding the house, correctly this time.

Luck, or Fate or God, was on his side. He slipped from one place to the other and landed squarely in Bobby's living room.

It was night again. He'd had no sense of the passing of time in the garden. And Dean was once more asleep on the couch. He noticed that some of the symbols on the windows had been changed, but still weren't quite correct. He'd have to teach Bobby how to do it properly. If he was allowed to teach them anything at all.

He watched Dean sleep, unwilling to wake him and begin the conversation. He knew the hunter was tired. He also knew that he had no idea how to convince Dean, or the others, of his sincerity or his honesty. He had lied to them so many times. And what he had said last time, to Dean…the challenges, the veiled insults...he had no idea how one apologized for that.

Dean stirred, his innate senses as a hunter bringing him alert. Green eyes opened, then focused with sudden sharp clarity on him, where he stood by the fireplace. The last dregs of sleep cleared from Dean's gaze in an instant, and the hunter sat bolt upright.

He didn't know how to start, and said the only thing he could think of. "Hello Dean."

Dean stared at him a moment, then rose to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Guess we still didn't get it quite right."

"No. Some of the sigils are slightly off." Three of them that he could see had extra lines, and one was missing two. Not a surprise, given that they were intricate and probably hastily erected warding symbols.

Dean turned, a smile that was more of a grimace on his face. "Yeah, well, let's fix that shall we?" There was a flash of a knife, the copper scent of blood as he spun around.

"Wait." He moved before he could think, caught Dean's hand before the hunter could start drawing. "Stop. Please." He saw the long cut on Dean's arm. A brush of his fingers healed it as if it had never been. "Please."

Dean looked at him, then jerked his arm free. "Why are you here, Cas?"

"Because I..." He looked away, unable to meet that green-eyed gaze, so filled with hurt and disgust and anger. "I need to speak with you."

"Yeah, really?" A sneer moved over Dean's face. "What? Another rant on how I don't know what you're doing, but you do? How I should just get out of your way, let you and Crowley go about this Purgatory business of yours? How you're an angel, and I'm just a man? That I should just trust you?" He turned his back, sharply. "Save it. I'm not interested."

"None of those." He clenched his jaw, then forced the anger away. "I came because...I wanted to say...I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that before too." There was no softening of the hunter's profile, or his voice.

"I mean it."

"Yeah?" Dean whirled back around, eyes blazing. "Like you meant it when you supposedly torched Crowley's bones? Like you meant it when you were supposedly looking into those demons? Like you meant it when you lied about how Sam came back?" Dean's jaw clenched, and he practically spat the last words. "Give me one good fucking reason why I should believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth."

There was one action he could take. One that meant more to him than any other, even if Dean might not understand it. The most sincere offering he could give.

He met Dean's blazing gaze. "No. Not like that." He bowed his head, then slowly lowered himself until his knees touched the worn wood and carpet of Bobby's floor, hands by his sides in a posture of submission and supplication such as he had only ever used in pleading God's favor. "I mean that I am sorry, and that I will do whatever you ask of me, to prove my sincerity." He raised his gaze, not to Dean's face, but level with his ribcage, taking the posture of subjugation that Raphael had demanded of him and he had refused. "Ask me."

Dean stood frozen. Footsteps pounded on the stairs and base boards, and Sam and Bobby entered the room a moment later, both showing signs of having slept in their clothes. Bobby looked tired. "Dean, what the hell's all the..." He stopped, seeing Castiel there.

Sam stopped behind him, eyes blinking as he took in the scene. He frowned. "Castiel?"

Bobby sighed. "Damn it. Guess we didn't get the warding quite right."

"No." His instincts, his pride, screamed at him to rise, but he forced himself to remain where he was. "But I can show you what you did wrong."

"Uh-huh." Bobby watched him a moment, then stepped further into the room, flanking Dean on the left as Sam moved to flank him on the right. "Sure you can. Problem is, not sure I'd trust your drawings to do any better than mine."

He deserved that. "Understandable."

Sam was still frowned. He cocked his head to the side. "Why are you kneeling?" He glanced at his brother. "Dean?"

"Wasn't me." Dean looked puzzled as well, if still angry.

"No. It wasn't. But it is because of you." He sighed. "This is...it seemed like the only thing I could do."

"Yeah. I got one for you. How about you tell us the truth. The whole truth this time. Why you were working with Crowley. What's this war in Heaven really about?" Dean bent down to squat in front of him. "You wanna prove to me that you're sincere, why don't you fill us in on the big picture? Without the lies and evasions."

"Fair." He bowed his head again, wondering where to begin. Then it came to him. Begin where he had begun with God. "It's a long story."

"Yeah, well, we're all ears." Bobby settled on the couch, Sam on a chair, and Dean stood and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, more to steady himself than because he needed air. "You know I was resurrected when Lucifer and Micheal were locked in the Cage."

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"Michael's imprisonment led to...chaos, of sorts. There was no clear leader in Heaven after him. Without the fulfillment of the Final Battle, my brethren were lost, confused. Many of them came to me, seeking advice, seeking guidance, leadership." He shook his head. "I tried to explain what I had learned from you, of free will and choice. For many angels, this is a difficult concept. We were...it's not something angels are used to. And then...Raphael came."

He swallowed against the bitterness that rose in him. "Raphael's plan is to claim the throne of Heaven. Once he does that, he intends to restart the Apocalypse, release Michael and Lucifer, and force the Final Battle to decide the fate of Heaven and Earth. There is only one obstacle in his path."

"Let me guess. You." Dean's voice was dry, but calmer than it had been.

"Yes." He paused, trying to put words to the concept. "Killing me would mean nothing. He's already done that and I came back. That Lucifer also killed me, and I was resurrected as a higher class of angel...many angels, even ones who follow Raphael, believe that it marks me as favored by the Father in some way." He had no way of knowing, not even with his own resurrection. "To kill me in cold blood would make of me a martyr. He needs my death to be in open combat, in rebellion. Unless something else happens first."

"Something else? Like what?" Sam's turn to interrupt.

"Raphael's intention is to make me kneel before him and swear loyalty to him and his cause, to force me to acknowledge his claim as Heaven's ruler. Once that happens, any opposition would melt away. I imagine that what happens to me after that wouldn't matter much." He shook his head. "He demanded that I kneel before him, in front of the Heavenly Host." He looked away from the three hunters. "I refused."

"You refused. Why?" Dean's voice was sharp, the tone he used on a hunt.

"I told you. Because Raphael will destroy everything. Everything I did in rebellion, everything you sacrificed, all of it would mean nothing if Raphael claims the throne of Heaven. Both of you would be called upon to be the vessels again." He swallowed. "I imagine, after being locked in the Cage, Sam's resources for resistance would be...diminished." He paused. "I told Raphael I wouldn't let that happen." He looked up into Dean's eyes, silently pleading for the hunter to believe him. "I swear, all I wanted was to stop him from undoing everything. I never wanted to take it any further than that. But he...wouldn't listen to me."

"And?" Bobby shifted on the couch.

"We fought. I lost." He remembered blood on his lips, the pain of the beating Raphael had administered.

"Lost? Lost as in, he got a lucky punch in, or lost as in..."

"He completely defeated me, without more than a token effort." he swallowed, struggling to find words for concepts that had no meaning in human terms, to explain how completely Raphael outmatched him. "Raphael is an archangel. It makes him powerful, and well supported. He is...far stronger than I am. And older. Much older."

"How much older, exactly?"

He wondered how they would take this news. If it was even comprehensible to them. "I can remember when the first amphibian meant to evolve into man came out of the sea. Raphael...he can remember when your sun and planet were first formed from nothingness."

"Damn. Seriously? The first amphibian?"

"Yes." he glanced up into Dean's face, then away. "My brother...Gabriel actually, told me not to step on it."

"Okay..."

"Back to the story." Sam met his gaze. "So...You defy Raphael. He cleans your clock, and...what?"

"He gave me a day to come to terms with the fact that he would make me submit to him." He thought about telling Dean where he had gone, then decided not to. "I came to Earth, to think. And Crowley approached me with a deal. His help in opposing Raphael, for help in claiming Purgatory."

"How does that work, exactly?"

"All souls are energy. Demons and angels both have the power to use and manipulate the energy of human souls. And, I suppose, the souls of monsters. I don't know, I've never actually tried it." He shook his head. "If Lucifer returns, he could reclaim the throne of Hell. Crowley doesn't want that. Whether Micheal could defeat Raphael is a little less certain, but...it's not of import."

"So skip to the important part."

"Raphael controls more of Heaven's power than I do. He can touch more souls. He knows more. It's...difficult to explain. Being older gives him several advantages. And being an archangel...even if we were the same age, he would outmatch me." He paused, feeling his way through the tangles of concepts. "Crowley...offered me help in opposing Raphael. Enough power to compete with him, at least temporarily. In return, he wanted me to help him find Purgatory, and harness the power inside it. The souls of the monsters. Soul energy absorbed gives the one who takes it more knowledge, more power."

"Yeah. And you said touching a soul was like sticking your hand in a nuclear reactor."Bobby's voice was dry.

"It is. But that's the point. Enough nuclear reactors...I could defeat Raphael. But..." he clenched his jaw. "It took me the energy of 50,000 souls to even temporarily check Raphael's efforts. To truly stop him..."

"Death said it's all about the souls." Dean shifted, then paced restlessly away from the wall. "So, what? You guys take the souls of Purgatory as a power supply? You bust Raphael? What does Crowley get out of this?"

"He cements his position as the King of Hell. I doubt he's the only powerful demon down there. Just the fastest one."

"Why Purgatory?" Sam's question was quiet.

"Because the souls of monsters are neutral. Humans are good or evil, in general. And in heaven, as likely to go to Raphael's aid as mine. The energy of Purgatory, harnessed properly, is literally anyone's to use. And since it's Purgatory, they're already energy, instead of tied to a physical form."

"Okay. So let's see if I've got this straight." Dean turned on his heel, then faced him. "Raphael cleans your clock. Crowley offers to help you one-up him, return the favor. Then you and Crowley tag team to get a nuclear mother-lode in your hands so you can divvy up Heaven and Hell? And you thought this was a good idea?"

"I thought that I could handle Crowley. And it was the only idea I had."

"Yeah. Well, I got one." Dean moved forward, then crouched so that they were face to face. "Why the hell didn't you come to me? Me and Bobby? I told you, time and time again...all you had to do was ask, and we'd have done everything we could for you. Even if it was just hide you for a while till you could think of something." His jaw clenched, eyes snapping with anger. "So why the hell did you go off and make a friggin demon deal? Tell me that."

He looked away. "I...I came to you. At the house you were staying in. You were raking leaves in the yard. I watched you. And I thought..." He couldn't finish.

Dean forced it. "Thought what?"

"You had sacrificed everything. Your father. Your brother. Your friends. Your life. I didn't want to ask you to give more. I didn't think it would be fair to involve you in Heaven's war. Not after everything we had already done to you." He shook his head. "When I was watching…you weren't happy. But you were...at peace, of sorts. You were...grieving, but..."

"But he was out. Settled. Looked like he might come to terms with things." Bobby sat back, arms folded across his chest. "Same reason I didn't tell him when Sam came back to the life."

"Exactly." He was relieved the old hunter understood him. He looked into Dean's eyes. "Perhaps it was wrong, but I swear...all I wanted was to protect you from this."

"But you raised Sam."

"Yes. But that was before Raphael." He struggled with the logic that had once seemed so clear. "I thought it was the right thing to do. And since I had managed to raise you..." He stopped, shame filling him at what had clearly been a monumental act of hubris. "Afterward, I thought it would make him less accessible to Raphael. And that his existence might be helpful. Necessary. And when Crowley agreed, I thought that was the end of it." He shook his head. "I should have known there was something wrong then."

Sam rose from his seat, came and crouched beside Dean. He caught that hazel gaze, then turned away, feeling the shame that burned thorough him intensify. He knew Sam's question before it was asked. "Cas, did you raise me from hell soulless, on purpose?"

"No. I swear it." He forced himself to look at the two brothers. "I...when I decided to release you...I..." He shook his head in frustration. "The cage is the deepest part of Hell. The worst. It's...unimaginable. If I'd stopped to think, perhaps I would have been more careful. As it was I was stronger than before Lucifer killed me. I thought that would make a difference, allow me to take you. And I was...arrogant. I had managed to rescue Dean safely, in spite of fierce opposition. I was sure that getting you out was simple. But being that deep, being so close to my brothers...it was...unsettling. And the cage is meant to be far more inaccessible than where Dean was. When I seized you from Hell and brought you back, I wasn't thinking clearly. So I didn't check that I had done the job properly. I simply returned you." He bowed his head. "I am sorry. That was a grievous mistake on my part. But I swear to you, I didn't know that I had failed you so badly until Dean called me and asked me to check on you. That was the first time I knew."He forced himself to look into Sam's eyes. "I swear it Sam, I never would have done that to you on purpose. I didn't know. I made a mistake." He looked away again. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that I failed you like that."

"Why didn't you tell us you could get him? Why didn't you go and bring the rest of him back when I asked?" Dean seized his shoulder and jerked him around, eyes blazing.

"Because I wasn't sure I could, having failed the first time. And I knew what I had left him to. Where I had left him. I got a glimpse of the cage. I knew what condition he would be in, what he might have endured. I...didn't want to bring him back to that. I told you...his soul was broken, burned, tortured, practically flayed alive." Sam paled, looking sick. Castiel met his gaze, trying to convey his remorse. "To bring that back...I didn't want to do that to you, because I didn't think I could fix it if I did. A wall...it didn't occur to me. And I'm not sure I could have made one strong enough."

Dean let go of him, sat back with a sigh. "Yeah, well...Death's got a lot of funky tricks, I guess."

"He is older than I am."

"Fine." Dean stood up, pacing the way he did when he was agitated. "So now what?"

"I don't know. Crowley is on the path to finding the gateway to Purgatory, and he's close to succeeding. And Raphael is hunting me."

"And you? What do you plan to do?" Dean turned to look at him.

"I don't know. Crowley's plan is the only one I had. Every attempt I've made at an alternative plan has ended in failure."

"What about the weapons you got from Balthazar? I thought you said they were a trump card."

"They might have been at one point. But not by the time I retrieved them. I achieved a stalemate. No more." he shook his head regretfully.

"So we're back to you opening Purgatory with the help of the King of Hell. Great."

"No. We are back to Crowley trying to open Purgatory, and me...here, asking you to forgive me, because I don't know what else to do."

Dean came back to him, stood looking down at him. "Why the change of heart? You seemed pretty damn set on this last time we talked."

"Because I..." It was so hard to speak these words. He was terrified of their rejection. It had been bad enough fighting with Dean before. "Because...the whole point of this was to protect you, because you are my brothers...my family. If I succeed, but destroy that...what was I fighting for? I was praying, and I realized that. Or had it explained to me. Besides..." He looked into Dean's face. "You told me once, that there was a right and a wrong way to do things. And that I should know what that is. Raphael is wrong. But Crowley...isn't right. And you...you weren't wrong the first time."

He looked away, unable to meet Dean's gaze for his final confession. "I remember what I felt, when you asked me to help you find Sam, when you sent me away for being too cowardly to help you. This...felt the same. And it made me think...that perhaps it was the same. And I didn't want..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't want to fail."

"What is it you do want?"

"Your help. Stopping Raphael. And Crowley, if we must. I don't know how either one of those is possible, but...I do know I would rather die for you, beside you, than stand against you." He bowed his head once more. "I know you have no reason to trust me. If you wish to send me away, that would be understandable. But...there's nothing else I can say to you. And I don't know what else I can do."

"Yeah. Well, I guess I know where we can start." Dean's quiet voice was all the warning he had.

Strong hands seized the front of his jacket and hauled him to his feet. He found himself looking Dean in the eyes. Calm eyes, with the burning fire gone from them. Dean met his gaze squarely, and he looked back, waiting. Dean seemed to be searching him for something.

Finally, the hands fisted in his coat relaxed. "One final question. You said you didn't tell me this because you thought I was out. But you knew Sam brought me back into the life. Why not then, when we called you that first time?"

"Because...I was already working with Crowley. I was at war, and I was losing. I didn't want to involve you and..." He looked away. "I told you that I was ashamed of my brothers. I was also ashamed of myself." He still was.

"Okay." Dean didn't seem inclined to let him go. He waited.

Finally, Bobby broke the silence. "Well? What are you gonna do, boy?" The old hunter rose. "We can either settle down and powwow together to sort this mess out, or you can throw him out in the yard, or just flat banish his ass and see if he can escape from Raphael. But pick something, cause I'd like to get a little more sleep."

Dean held him a moment longer, then released him. "Let me make things clear. I'm still pissed. And it'll be a while before I trust you. That's just the way it is. You've lied to us too much for anything else."

"I know." He had nothing else to say.

The smallest of weary smiles touched Dean's mouth. "Still, as long as you're here...we'll do the best we can Cas. Not sure what, but we'll do what we can. Because you're right. I said we were family, so you have a right to ask us for help. So, come dawn, we'll get together and try and sort shit out. You stay here until then. Okay?"

"Yes." He glanced at the windows. "I can repair Bobby's warding symbols while you sleep."

"Sure. Whatever. Just...don't kneel anymore, okay." Dean shook his head. "That was friggin weird."

"If you wish." He came to the hunter's side, wary of being pushed away. "If you wish, I can help you sleep."

"Only if you have an alarm clock function. I'd like to wake in time for a decent breakfast." Dean shuffled, yawned.

"Of course. When?"

"Seven am. Bright and early." Bobby cracked his back.

"Very well. Sleep. I will wake you." A brief pulse of energy, and all three minds fell to sleep. He caught them with his power, sending Dean to the couch and the others to their beds. "Rest well." Then he turned to look at the warding again.

He had work to do.

 _ **Author's Note:** Well, that went well. Of course, it's not going to be just THAT easy. And here's where the real roller-coaster ride begins._


	3. Chapter 3: Discussions

**Chapter** **Three:** **Discussions**

It took him a few hours to rework the sigils covering the house. The three hunters had apparently put up every single warding sign they could find, and every one he'd ever shown them. He reworked the ones that had been done incorrectly and added his blood to all of them, to prevent himself from being banished. By the time he was done, the house was as angel-proof as mortal or immortal effort could make it. It was uncomfortable for him, but bearable.

It was dawn by the time he finished, and a look at the clock indicated that it was almost the time Bobby had requested to be woken. He tilted his head, orienting himself on the older hunter's location within the house, and made his way upstairs. He reached the upper hallway, took a moment to register Sam's presence in the room on the left, then moved toward the door on the right.

He considered entering, but Dean had warned him more than once that humans were touchy about their personal space. He lifted his hand to knock, only to stop as the door swung open to reveal Bobby, already awake and dressed.

The older hunter eyed him. "Thought that might be you."

He blinked. "How did you…?"

"Stairs squeak. It's a good warning system, so I never fixed 'em." Bobby stepped out into the hallway. "Well, 'bout time for breakfast. Come on. We can talk while I cook up something."

He nodded. "Should I wake Sam?"

"Nah. Let the boys sleep. Been a rough time for 'em. 'Sides, I want a word with you, private-like." The hunter jerked his head at the stairs. "Come down to the kitchen with me."

He followed the hunter and perched at the table while Bobby pulled out a battered skillet, some bacon and bread, and began to work. The silence felt awkward, and he cast about for something to break it. Finally, he ventured the only statement he could think of. "You don't seem as angry as I thought you would be."

Bobby shot him a look, then shrugged and turned back to the skillet. "I ain't the most pleased with you, I'll grant you. But way I figure it, we're all entitled to a few dumb mistakes. You're the boys' friend more than mine, which makes it easier for me. And you actually stopped to think for a minute before the final monumental stupid moment, which is more than those idjits usually do, so points to you for that." He gestured. "Pass me the pepper, would you?"

He found the small container and handed it over. "Do you think Dean will still be angry with me when he wakes?"

"Probably. Boy don't like bein' lied to. And you did give Sam a fair amount of trouble." Bobby prodded the skillet, flipped some of the bacon. "You eat scrambled eggs?"

"I don't eat. But I might...I could try them." A poor peace offering, but the best he could do. "I'm sorry. I know I've caused you some trouble."

"Damn straight you have." Bobby flipped the rest of the bacon, then turned to look at him. "I'm gonna say this once, so you'd better listen up."

"I'm listening." He fixed his full attention on the older man.

"Those boys, they're like family to me. Their father was a real piece of work, and I don't mean that in a good way. I've done my best to do right by them, but they got a lot of sharp edges and scars that don't need poking. You go lyin' to them, pulling crap like you did with Crowley, and you're not just poking those wounds, you're ripping 'em new ones. Now, I'll grant you were just tryin' to take care of them, keep them out of trouble, so I'll give you a pass on this one, but you pull that crap again and I'll thump you good. Understand me?"

"I...think so." He really didn't, but he wasn't sure he should say that.

Bobby watched him a moment, then jerked his head at the fridge. "Get me some eggs and some butter out, would ya?"

He stood, went to the fridge and retrieved the requested items. He held them out to Bobby. The old hunter stared at him a moment, then abruptly smacked him just above the ear. The move was so unexpected he didn't think to block it, especially not with his hands full of eggs. He blinked as Bobby took the food from him. "What was…?"

"Warning shot. I do that to Sam and Dean when they're being idjits, and I'll do it to you too, Angel of the Lord or not." Bobby turned back to the stove threw on more bacon, cracked eggs into a bowl, and put bread in a worn toaster on the counter. "Like it or not, you been claimed as family, ya airhead, and that means you get the same hugs, smackings, tellin' off and feeding up that everyone else gets."

He blinked. That notion was so foreign to him. He studied the old hunter. "Even you?"

Bobby shot him a glare. "If I need it. But that don't happen often." The toaster popped, and he pointed at it with the spatula. "Butter that and put more toast in, while I start the coffee brewing."

He did as he was told, fumbling a little with the knife and still trying to process the odd feelings running through him. His head didn't hurt, hadn't when Bobby hit him, but he could still feel it, an odd phantom tingle that he didn't understand.

He fixed six more slices of toast before Bobby told him to stop, watched as the man turned off the stove and set out plates with brisk efficiency. "You've had practice."

"Ever since Dean was four years old I have." Bobby jerked his head at the stairs. "Go wake Sam. I'll get Dean up."

"How should I wake him?" He'd never attempted to disturb the Winchester's rest before. At least, not in what he thought humans considered a polite manner.

"Knock on the door. When he answers it, tell him grub's up."

He frowned. "Why would Sam be interested in worm larvae? I thought it was breakfast..."

Bobby snorted. "Grub. Backwoods slang for food. How the hell you been hangin' out with these boys this long and never learned slang?"

"I don't know." He filed the word for future reference. "I will...wake Sam."

He climbed back up the stairs, and knocked carefully on the door that separated him from Sam's presence.

A brief noise on the other side of the door, the sound of someone moving, and then the door opened to reveal Sam, disheveled and blinking drowsily. The young hunter blinked at him a few times, then swiped the hair out of his face. "Cas?"

"Bobby said to wake you and tell you that...grub...is up."

"Uh...yeah...sure." Sam blinked at him again. Then he sighed. "Umm...you might want to move back, so I can get through the door."

"Oh." he stepped back, let Sam exit the room, then followed him downstairs.

Dean was already at the table, sipping at a cup of black coffee and looking sleepy. Sam dropped into a chair, and Bobby set a mug and the coffee pot on the table. Sam served himself. Castiel hovered for a moment, until Bobby turned, huffed impatiently, and jerked his head at the chair next to the door. "Well, sit down. I ain't gonna serve you standin' up, dumbass."

He nodded and settled himself carefully into the chair. Bobby set eggs and toast and bacon on the table, served himself a mug of coffee, and dropped into the remaining chair. "All right. Everyone dig in."

He watched as all three humans served out eggs and bacon and took two pieces of toast. Dean eyed him for a moment, then caught Sam's eye across the table. The youngest Winchester promptly dumped a small serving of eggs onto his plate, and a slice of toast. Dean poured coffee into the cup next to his plate, then added two slices of bacon. "Here. If you're joining us for breakfast, might as well eat it."

He nodded, then lifted the fork and scooped up a bit of food, watching the other three carefully to see if he was doing it right. His brief experience with near humanity almost two years ago hadn't involved eating like this. He adjusted his grip on the fork, then stuck the eggs in his mouth.

He had a sense of what the eggs should taste like, but it was overwhelmed by the individual components, drowning the overall flavor. He chewed, swallowed, tried not to make a face, and opted to try the other food on his plate. The toast wasn't much better, but the bacon, which Bobby had peppered, was palatable, and he actually almost enjoyed the coffee. He managed a couple more bites of eggs and toast, then settled for another slice of bacon and finishing his coffee.

Dean eyed his plate. "Not a fan of eggs?"

Cas frowned. "They are...edible. But the overall flavor doesn't overwhelm the taste of the component molecules. And molecules taste..." He almost said 'disgusting' but he didn't want to insult his host. "...far less palatable."

"But you don't have that problem with bacon and coffee, apparently."

"No." He grimaced. "Apparently angels can find enjoyment in food, but it requires a certain strength of flavor to compensate for our alternative methods of sensing things."

"Explains the penchant for alcohol and candy." Sam grinned. "I always wondered about that, actually. Why you wouldn't eat, but you could get drunk."

He grimaced. "Liquor is indeed one of the things potent enough to overcome the barrier of individual versus overall taste value."

"Whatever." Dean stole the eggs off his plate. Sam frowned, but when he made no protest, the youngest Winchester eyed his toast. He pushed the plate towards him. Sam looked at him a moment, then promptly snagged the toast and offered him another piece of bacon, which he declined.

They finished eating. Bobby took the plates to the sink, then brought over another pot of coffee. "So, now that we're all fed, what are we gonna do about this whole screw up?"

Sam sighed. "Well, first we need to know exactly what we're up against." All three hunters looked at him.

He frowned in thought. "I can tell you about Crowley's progress. For an accurate report on Heaven I would need to speak to Balthazar. He's been working as my Second since Rachel's death." the memory made him feel guilty. If he had only listened sooner, she wouldn't have died. After all, her only reason for turning against him had been the plan to open Purgatory.

Dean dropped a hand on the table. "Fine. So summon him here, let's get the lowdown."

He nodded. "I need your permission to exclude him from the angel warding."

"How sure are you of his loyalty?" Sam frowned.

"He has as much to lose as I do if Raphael wins. And he...he urged me not to go through with this plan for Purgatory. I think he would support me now."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, if we can think up a viable plan for preventing Apocalypse 2.0."

"One step at a time." Bobby gestured. "Go summon your buddy and do whatever you need to bring him into this little powwow. Then we can put all our cards on the table and see what kinda hand we been dealt."

He didn't understand the reference to cards, but he did understand the order to get Balthazar. He rose from the table "Give me a few minutes."

Outside, he took a moment to relax. He felt more comfortable, here without the angel warding confining his essence. The air was sharp and crisp with morning scents, mingled with the tang of metal and dry earth and oil that was an integral part of the atmosphere around Bobby's house. He took a moment to enjoy it, and the odd, unaccountable feeling of 'home' that it gave him, then closed his eyes and cast his thoughts outward, seeking one unique individual essence. "Balthazar, I need to speak with you."

A moment passed, then a rush of displaced air. "Cassie." The brunet angel who was his friend and second in command smirked, raised his hands in surrender. "Apologies. Castiel. Commander. What can I do for you?" His eyes flickered. "Things are a bit rough upstairs, so we might want to make this brief. And you know I can't help much on the other front."

"That's what I wish to speak of. My other plan...I've decided to discontinue it. It's no longer a strategy I wish to pursue."

Palpable relief filled Balthazar's face. "Well, thank Heaven and our Father for that. I've always said going nuclear wasn't your brightest idea ever. Never mind handing the King of Hell the keys to the kingdom." Balthazar rolled his shoulders. "Can I ask what changed your mind? You were pretty certain you knew what you were doing, the last time we talked." Dark eyes regarded him with suspicion, and not a little bit of hurt.

He grimaced. "Sam and Dean discovered my betrayal. After that I withdrew to seek advice. I called out to God. And he...he answered me, in a manner of speaking."

Balthazar's eyes widened. "God, our absent Father whom no one has found in thousands of years, actually answered you?"

"Not in words. I just...there was a feeling, that I was being strongly discouraged from the action I intended to take. Perhaps it was only my own regret at alienating the Winchesters." The possibility had occurred to him more than once, but he couldn't quite accept it. "I don't know. I only know that I've decided not to open Purgatory."

Balthazar huffed. "Well, at this point, I don't care. You had me worried, my brother." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, bygones and all that. What are our plans now?"

"I have asked the Winchesters and their mentor, Robert Singer, for assistance."

Balthazar made a face. "Interesting. But I admit, I don't quite see how three hairless apes..." Castiel scowled and Balthazar backtracked. "...three ordinary humans are going to stop Raphael."

"They stopped the Apocalypse. With no one on their side save me. The Winchesters have proven they can do much with little. Even defeat Lucifer with nothing more than will power."

Balthazar cocked his head. "Point, I suppose." He shrugged. "Well, if that's the plan, then that's the plan. I like it better than your Going Nuclear plan, at least. If not by much. So...strategy?"

"The house is warded against angels. I have their permission to exclude you from the warding. Then we will...'put our cards on the table' according to Bobby."

"It's a start." Balthazar summoned a blade and cut his hand, his expression one of forced nonchalance. "Exclude away, Cassie." Castiel glared at him, then drew his brother over to the porch to incorporate his blood into the symbols there.

Ten minutes later they were done, and he led Balthazar inside. The Winchesters and Bobby were still at the kitchen table, but an extra chair had been added. Dean and Sam both regarded Balthazar with guarded wariness. Bobby's expression was neutral as he extended a hand. "Balthazar, I'm guessing?"

"The very same." Balthazar shook the proffered hand. "Heard of you, haven't had the pleasure of a face-to-face meet."

"Same here." Bobby gestured to the chairs. "Well, have a seat, and let's get the ball rolling."

Castiel settled himself into the chair. Balthazar frowned. "Not to be rude, but if we're having an extended talk, I'd really prefer something with a bit more comfort and class, if you don't mind."

Bobby scowled, then shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

Balthazar gestured. Every chair at the table was replaced with a much more padded one. It reminded Castiel of the chairs in the Heaven Raphael had claimed, though he didn't comment on it.

Dean whistled. "Not bad." he smirked. "For a feathery pompous dick."

Balthazar smirked. "Indeed. I said the same about that trick with the holy oil and the fire. But Cassie asked me to let bygones be bygones, and since he is, at the moment, my commander..." He held up a hand. "Truce and all that, shall we boys? All in the name of stopping Raphael and his little Apocalypse restart. After that, I'll be happy to return to mutual disinterest, or even outright dislike, if you like."

Dean shrugged and relaxed into his chair. "Sure. Truce till we gank Raphael. After that...well, we'll see." Sam rolled his eyes at the statement. So did Bobby.

"Can't wait." Balthazar lowered himself into his chair. "So then...how much do you boys know about the situation?"

Sam sighed. "Not enough. We know Castiel is battling Raphael. We know it's not going well."

"Not going well is an understatement. Raphael is an archangel, darlings. And I'm not sure you comprehend exactly what that means, among angels."

Dean grimaced. "Cas mentioned something about being older, more access to heaven's power, but assume we're flying blind. The whole angel thing never has made much sense to me. I thought Cas came back stronger than he was before."

"Oh, he did. The Cas I flew to Hell with was a garrison commander. Prestigious enough, one would say, but not that high on the totem pole. Only one step above the average rank and file. Now...our little Cas is a Seraph. Promoted to the popular kids table, you might say." Both Winchesters looked blank. Balthazar sighed. "Think of it as the difference between being a rank and file soldier, then getting promoted to say...General. That's what happened with Castiel. Although, all things considered...it's more like being recalled from a dishonorable discharge and promoted." Balthazar frowned and sat forward, fixing the brothers with a stare devoid of any humor. "Castiel has power, but it's uncertain, because two years ago he was practically a fugitive. He's high ranked, and every angel who sees him knows it, and it's a bloody miracle, but he's not the top of the food chain."

"And where's Raphael in this picture?" Sam's voice was quiet. Controlled.

"Raphael? If all four archangels existed, he'd be...head of Congress, say. In the Presidential Advisory Cabinet. With the other three either dead or locked in Hell, boys, Raphael is practically the President. Commander in Chief." Balthazar say back. "And he intends to take the throne and make a dictatorship of it. Unless Cas can stop him, or unless God himself suddenly decides to return...Raphael will become the king. And what very, very little democracy and free will exists in Heaven, and on Earth, will be snuffed out like a candle in a tidal wave."

"Okay. That sounds bad." Dean huffed. "So...this heavenly power thing..."

"Raphael is a well known angel. One of the best, like the other archangels. Tell a human soul, assuming they're even aware enough to pay attention, that you speak for the archangel Raphael, and you'll get an immediate response. A jump. A spark. Recognition. And, in most cases, even if they call you a bald faced liar a moment later, admiration. And that admiration is just enough of a chink to count as permission. As allegiance. Unless it's specifically countermanded by the presence of an angel using that human as a vessel, or by a stronger form of recognition and devotion to another to another cause, another religion, etc."

"So recognition and trust allows Raphael to tap the power of anyone who feels that way."

"Exactly. Castiel...not as well known. There are souls that recognize him, acknowledge him. Even some that actively look up to him. But the number isn't anywhere as high as Raphael's."

"Yeah. Cas mentioned needing a 50,000 soul boost just to put up a decent fight."

"Indeed. And that's only half the problem, I'm afraid." Balthazar scowled. "Raphael's a damn sight more ruthless in controlling his troops than Castiel is."

Bobby scowled. "What the hell's that even mean?"

"I've tried to talk to those on Raphael's side. Convince them to withdraw, or to change sides. It's impossible." Castiel winced. "Raphael...he told me once that they wouldn't listen, because their hearts were his. I fear he meant the words literally."

Sam grimaced. "How is that even possible?"

"There are ways to bind an angel's essence...through coercion or through the angel's own free will. Once those are set...it takes enormous power to break free, incredible strength of will. An archangel's strength, or an incredible purpose, akin to a vocation." Castiel looked down at his hands, feeling weariness and grief wash over him again. "Raphael is invested with the authority of Heaven. I suspect...I know that he uses that to bind his followers. Just as he uses his position as an archangel, as the last archangel, to coerce those who might otherwise avoid the conflict into siding with him."

"So...he whacks them over the head with his 'I'm the boss do as I say' crap, then...brainwashes them so they can't do anything else?" Dean's scowl made Bobby's pale in comparison.

"That's about the size of it." Balthazar shrugged. "Cas, on the other hand..."

"I've only asked the other angels to follow me. I don't coerce them. I don't force them."

"Which is much appreciated, and earns a great deal of loyalty and all that, but it does mean that sometimes angels change their minds, in the interests of self preservation if nothing else. It also means that Cas can't force them into life-threatening situations. They will go, do a lot of the time honestly, which is all very helpful, but there are limits." Balthazar shrugged again, hands spread wide. "To bottom line it, for the sake of easier comprehension on your part...we're outnumbered several to one, and their side is using forced mindless conscripts, where we're relying on volunteer forces."

"And Heaven's weapons?"

"Not a bad little trick to have. But they're meant more for human use. They have a limited impact on angels, even used correctly." Balthazar shrugged. "Having them means we're holding our own. Barely. And the longer it goes, the less chance we actually have. We simply don't have the resources to keep this up. Not even with Castiel's new and improved status."

Sam's brow drew tight. "It's a war of attrition. And he has the resources to outlast you."

"Exactly. Without something huge, some sort of...near miracle I suppose, Raphael will simply wear us down until we are all destroyed. Or until he can corner and destroy me." Castiel clenched his hands tighter.

"Which is why the whole Purgatory gig started." Dean sighed. "Damn. This is fucked up."

"Yeah yeah, table that for a moment. About the whole Purgatory thing...how's that really going?" Bobby sat forward in his chair.

"Slower than it would be if you hadn't killed Eve. But it is progressing. Crowley seeks the last piece of the equation, the proper materials for crafting the gate sigil, and verification of the incantation. He was looking for the dragons who raised Eve, but...there is another path, which I have no doubt he is also investigating."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Bobby's frown darkened.

"Lovecraft. There were rumors of a séance that opened Purgatory. Most of the people who were there are dead. Or insane. But there are survivors. And stories that something came through to this side." He stared at his hands. "I...spoke with a man who was a child in that house at the time. He gave me some information. He believed that something did come through, and that it...was masquerading as his mother for a time."

"Did you give Crowley the name?"

"I...yes. It was right before you summoned me." He swallowed hard. "Visyak."

"Visyak? As in...Ellie Visyak?" Bobby's fist clenched.

"I believe that was the mother's name, yes."

"Balls. I always knew there was somethin' off about her." Bobby flushed, then anger darkened his face. "How long ago did you tell Crowley?"

"A few days. But...she is well warded." Cas frowned. "And I believe Crowley would have called me, if he had managed to trap her."

"Darn right she is, and now I understand why she was always so wary." Bobby shoved his chair back and stood. "We gotta warn her. Ellie's a smart girl, but all it takes is one mistake."

"All well and good gents, but we have another problem on our hands." Balthazar spoke up. "Stopping Crowley is important, yes, we can all agree on that, but the bigger problem still remains. What do we plan to do about Raphael?" He spread his hands. "Suggestions? Ideas? Long shots? Because at this point, I am literally open to anything and everything you boy might put on the table."

Dean frowned. "Well, there's always baiting him into a ring of Holy Fire. Worked before."

"Valid. Although Raphael, most unfortunately, isn't stupid. A ruse that works once probably won't work twice. And a ring of Holy Fire won't hold an archangel forever." Balthazar cocked his head. "Other ideas?"

Sam shrugged. "Kill him before he gets out, I guess." he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll think about it, but right now, we need to stop Crowley. Having one high-powered enemy is bad enough. If Crowley gets his hands on Purgatory, then we'll be under attack from both sides, and honestly? I don't like our odds."

Balthazar considered a moment, then ducked his head in a short nod. "Fair enough." He turned to Castiel. "Well then Cassie, what's our strategy? As the human saying goes, the ball is in your court."

Cas frowned at the colloquialism, but didn't pursue it. "For now...Balthazar, marshal our forces in Heaven. If the worst should happen, you'll need to take them somewhere safe. Sam, Dean...you need to protect this property. If Raphael defeats me, you'll need to shield yourselves." He turned to Bobby. "Robert Singer..."

"Bobby. I hate bein' called by my full name."

"Bobby. I believe you should look in on your friend. Bring her here if you can. That should keep her safe, for now."

Dean stood up. "And what are you going to do?"

"I am going to see Crowley. I may be able to discover if he's made any further progress. I also might be able to confuse his plans, give him false information. Failing that, I suspect I will simply tell him the deal is off. He will most likely be extremely angry, but..." Castiel shrugged. "I will...cross that bridge when I come to it, I believe the saying is."

"Yeah. Though you'd do better to burn that one." Dean sighed. "All right. Let's get moving." The rest of them stood, and Balthazar transformed the chairs back to normal. Cas turned to go, but Dean's voice stopped him. "Cas."

He turned. The hunter stared at him a moment, then sighed. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders, and some of the angry restlessness faded from his eyes. "You'd better come back safe, you hear me? And next time, don't wait so damn long before you ask for help."

Relief welled up in him. It wasn't forgiveness, not completely, not yet, but it was a beginning. "I understand. I'll be very careful." Then he turned and strode out to the yard, and willed himself away.

 _ **Author's Note:** I meant for this chapter to involve Cas telling Crowley and the fallout from that, but the boys really wanted to have a planning meeting first. And I just couldn't leave out Balthazar...he insisted. So, this chapter planning, next chapter...Cas confronts Crowley and...fun happens. _

_Questions? Comments?_


	4. Chapter 4: Breaking Away

**Chapter 4: Breaking Away**

Castiel landed with a light thump just outside Crowley's current fortress. As always, he could feel his shoulders drawing tight, disgust filtering through him. He hated coming to meet Crowley in his hideouts. The air always stunk of blood and bodily waste, and the atmosphere was always laden with pain and fear and despair.

It reminded him of going to Hell for Dean and Sam's souls, but without the added benefit of a mission to distract him from the ugliness. Worse, it reminded him of the things he'd done while working with Crowley. Like what he'd done while they were hunting Eve. He'd once forced Dean to torture Alistair under the argument that Dean was more proficient at such things than an angel, but after what he'd done then...he was glad Dean hadn't seen it, hadn't yet discovered just how proficient he'd become at committing such atrocities.

It made him wonder, for half a moment, what he might have become capable of if he hadn't made the choice he had.

He shook the thought away. He had other things to think about. Like how he was going to handle his confrontation with Crowley.

A strong approach would be best. To that end, he set his shoulders and let his Grace rise to the surface, filling him with Heavenly energy. Then he strode forward and rammed the doors of the fortress open with a crash. Demons scattered out of his way. He took no notice of them as he made his way forward, towards the heart of the compound. He caught sight of himself in a metal surface, eyes shining blue and his body snapping with energy and purpose, every inch an angel of the Lord on a mission.

Exactly the image he wanted.

He found Crowley where he had expected to find him, in the central chamber that the demon had turned into his laboratory and torture chamber. The demon looked up from his current work table at his entrance. "Well well, Castiel. Nice of you to drop in."

"I don't think opening Purgatory is a wise decision." He saw no point in beating around the bush. "It's dangerous. Soul energy is unpredictable, even at the best of times."

"That's why we use a ritual to control it, darling." Crowley smirked. "You do remember, don't you? Ritual? Blood of a Purgatory native? Chanting? Cute little symbols on the wall, all that? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now."

"I'm not. I just think there might be other ways. Safer ways." He stepped into the room.

"Sure you do. Need I remind you, you've already tried those safer ways. You've tried the weapons of Heaven. You've tried recruiting angels. You've even tried rewriting history, if memory serves. And where has that got you? Nowhere. You're backed into a corner, Feathers." Crowley smiled, but it was a sharp, predatory expression.

"That may be true. But that doesn't mean I'm out of options. Besides..." Castiel moved forward to look at the notes scattered on the table, the products of his and Crowley's months of work. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won't try to usurp all the power for yourself?"

"How do you know I won't double cross you, do you mean? Well, you don't. But then, I have the same problem with you, don't I? One might even say I have a bigger problem in fact."

Something in Crowley's tone made Castiel turn. The demon was staring at him with a cold expression. Castiel felt himself tense. Something was wrong. Still… "I've kept my word."

"Have you? See, I disagree." Crowley smirked. "See, it turns out, it's rather amazing what humans will do. Especially for a reprieve from an inconvenient deal. Little things like, for example, a bit of spying. Say, on a certain house."

Castiel's foreboding intensified. "What do you mean? Have you discovered where the woman is?"

"Sadly, not just yet. But...I do know where you were this morning." Crowley's expression darkened. "You went to the Winchesters."

Castiel scowled back. "They've been useful."

"And now they're a liability. They know our plans. In fact, I 'd venture a guess they know more now than they did before. Considering that you and your second-in-command were there for quite some time."

"I thought they could prove useful again."

"Please. Spare me. They don't trust you. They trapped you in a ring of Holy Fire. There's no way in bloody Hell that you managed to convince them to support this plan. I know those two, and they're far too bloody righteous to go through with this. No...you went there for something else."

Crowley reached into a pocket and pulled out a small device. "It's amazing what one of these can do. Set it up just right, and you can learn...well, anything you want. And if I, for instance, had one of my human minions install a listening device in Robert Singer's home...well, amazing what I might learn, isn't it. Like, for instance, the fact that you went there to make amends with the Winchesters."

A listening device. It was possible Crowley was bluffing, but equally possible that he wasn't. "I told you, I was hoping..."

"You were hoping they'd take you back. You went to them for help. You…." Crowley gave him an ugly look, one that almost turned his human face into an imitation of his demon one. "...betrayed me. Betrayed everything we've worked for this past year."

"I..."

"As I said, spare me. Bottom line, Castiel, you're a poor liar." Crowley's mask of rage faded. "You want out, fine. As it happens, I've got another buyer interested in the same deal."

Castiel went cold. "Who?"

"Hello, Castiel." The feminine, familiar voice froze him in place for a split second before he whirled around.

Raphael stood at the top of the stairs over the door, a cold smirk on her face. Castiel whirled back to Crowley.

Crowley sneered. "Meet my new business partner. Although, I believe you're already acquainted."

"Raphael will only use you and discard you. He does not share power." He suspected it was futile to try, but he had to make the attempt.

"Yes, well, what's business without a little risk? Besides...I could say the same thing about you." Crowley shrugged.

Raphael disappeared. Castiel reacted immediately, flinging himself away and calling his angel blade. He thought about trying to smite Crowley, but he had a feeling the archangel would have measures in place to prevent it. And Crowley had an angel blade.

He was outnumbered two to one, and outmatched. He did the only thing he could do.

He fled.

His first transport was to the most random location he could think of, a nameless mountain in the middle of Virginia. His second stop was the North Pole, and his third was the Sahara Desert. Then and only then did he take the risk of transporting to Bobby's house.

The hunters were cleaning ammo and weapons in the living room when he stumbled into existence. All of them looked up with expressions of alarm. Dean rose to his feet. "Cas..."

"Quiet." He held up his hand. Then he moved to Bobby and placed a hand on his forehead. _'Crowley knows of my decision and our discussion this morning. He knows I have betrayed him, and he has allied himself with Raphael. He says he learned of this through a listening device implanted in your house. Where would such a device be?'_

Bobby was fortunately quick to learn. His response was fumbling, and involved some repressed cursing, but it was immediate. _'Had a repair guy out to fix the internet the other day. Wager it's somewhere around there.'_

 _'You must find it and destroy it. In the meantime...you know the whereabouts of Ellie Visyak?'_

 _'Yeah.'_

 _'Tell me. She must be rescued before Raphael can find her. If Raphael finds her before we do…'_

 _'That'd be a right balls-up. All right. I'm trustin' you though, so don't you screw up.'_

An image of a location floated into his mind. A remote cabin, covered in warding sigils, and a middle-aged woman with a cynical expression, dressed in neat clothing.

 _'Thank you.'_ He let Bobby go and transported himself away.

 _ **Author's Note:** Short chapter._

 _Next up...there are some problems..._


End file.
